


if you like to do the things you know that we shouldn't do

by resurrectdead



Category: Amazingphil - Fandom, Danisnotonfire - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Angst and Porn, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I dunno what else to say about this honestly, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Phan AU, Phan Smut, Porn With Plot, Student!Dan, Teacher!Phil, Teacher-Student Relationship, teacher/student au, that was just a relatable suggested tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-22 14:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8289400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resurrectdead/pseuds/resurrectdead
Summary: Something like, Dan has the most boring uni teacher on the planet - the kind that tucks his shirt into his trousers mid-lecture and claims he's the cool guy - and everything's all bland and boring and Dan's about to fail the course and considers daily if he should just drop out to get it over with.
  
  Enter lovely teacher trainee.
Or: When first year law student Dan meets Mr. Lester.sequel: "if you like to do whatever you've been dreaming about"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Notice: I have never been to uni and I know nothing about law!!! My reference was someone who went to uni for art and who didn't live in a dorm; the rest was assumptions or inspired by either Dan's "University Life" or by my own school experience. I tried, basically.

It's probably for the best to declare right now how your hero will have fallen to bits by the end of this introduction. 

It is quite the build-up up until that point, though. Something like, Dan has the most boring uni teacher on the planet - the kind that tucks his shirt into his trousers mid-lecture and claims he's the cool guy - and everything's all bland and boring and Dan's about to fail the course and considers daily if he should just drop out to get it over with. 

The first time Dan sees _him_ , the person about to ruin his whole bloody life, he's busy cupping his hands around his tea mug and attempting to absorb its warmth. He's buried in a grey hoodie, sleeves pulled over his wrists and bunched in his palms, shoulders drawn up and feet silently tapping against the floor. He's physically prepared for an hour and twenty minutes of an old, balding man speaking about victims of abuse in court, but he's not quite mentally there yet. 

When his professor, annoyingly punctual, comes up front, he quickly announces how they're going to have someone there with them. An assistant of sorts, but really a teacher-in-the-making, who's going to be there to help and support and hold a few lectures himself. Dan's still bored out of his mind, spinning his pencil around between his fingers, until.

Enter lovely teacher trainee. 

The blue eyes scan the room from behind the black frame of his glasses, offering them all a smile as he saunters inside with his hands on his back. Mr. Lester is his name, or so he says, and Dan has to sit up straighter. He’s young; can’t be older than twenty-seven, but has to be over twenty-four. The man lingers a bit before he steps back to allow their teacher to take back the spotlight and introduce the plans for the day. But Dan can't tear his eyes away.

Mr. Lester's hair is jet black, even though his skin is light, pale, even, and he pushes it up and back in a way that makes Dan lose just the tiniest bit of sanity. Leaning against the wall, he keeps his patient eyes laid on their teacher with a gentle smile on his lips, weighing from foot to foot ever so often. His eyes are the colour of the sky, Dan swears; clear as the day when he looks up, darker like the sky's reflection in the deep ocean when he tilts his head forward.

Time passes incredibly fast and Dan soon realises he’s staring, but he doesn’t stop. He’s not sure if he _can_. Because the man’s got a blue shirt on, buttoned all the way to just below his adam's apple, and when he moves to hang his jacket over a nearby chair Dan can't help but notice how prominent his biceps look underneath the short, rolled up sleeves of the blue, sheer, cotton shirt. 

He nearly snaps his pencil in half.

Enter lessons filled with staring, inspecting; enter nights with Dan's hand shoved down his pants and recalling the sights of the day. Enter Dan having a _real_ reason to be failing this course.

He's sure if he would just be brave enough to speak to Mr. Lester, he might never have to freeze in this lecture hall ever again.

 

 

 

Mr. Lester isn't the type of cool teacher who tries to be down with the kids by ridiculing Facebook, Dan realises during their first lecture together. Mr. Lester is the type of cool teacher who draws parallels between things he's trying to teach and episodes of Criminal Minds. He talks about How To Get Away With Murder more than he talks about any criminological Durkheim theory and admits with a sheepish smile he'd rather be at home with a cup of coffee and an episode of Adventure Time if he had the choice.

Dan wonders if he also has a crush on Dr. Reid.

He'd gotten to take over the class while their teacher sat back, eventually going for coffee, leaving Mr. Lester to do his share. He’d suddenly seemed more relaxed, and this is when all the secrets spill. He makes some students laugh with his silly comments, giggling with them while writing key words from his Spider-Man notebook on the whiteboard. He’s young enough to be friends with all of them, but old enough for them to look up to. And he’s fucking charming about it.

(It’s not even in the way that makes you think, oh, this guy’s an overly confident dick. Sadly, it’s in the way that makes you go, oh, my gosh, aren’t you just amazing?)

"You guys are going to get me fired", he murmurs at one point through his smile, shaking his head. 

He’s summarizing a case file on the whiteboard with a squeaky blue pencil. He’s already discussed how it’s his favourite colour and Dan has already filed it in his memory box for ‘Random Adorable Facts’.

Some students "aaw" in response to his statement, some laugh with him. Not once has anyone seemed to laugh _at_ him.

"Awful, isn’t it?" Mr. Lester stands slumped over his papers, glasses slid down to the very tip of his nose, grinning like he’s having the time of his life. “Bringing out the worst in me like this.”

Dan knows this is not his worst. Mr. Lester's way of being shouldn't be considered anyone's worst.

The lesson goes on for another fifteen minutes. Dan finds himself learning more with the strange anecdotes and references, as out of place and unprofessional as they may seem. Because Dan is in fact also strange and this is the native language of his home planet. 

He eavesdrops on other students later that day (though he doesn't mean to; he keeps his door open to attract potential friends from time to time and people pass him by) and a lot of them agree with him as well. Minus the otherworldly relation. Minus the mentions of Mr. Lester's ridiculously good looks. Plus a few unappreciated complaints about the latest episodes of said TV shows. 

Dan wonders what he sounds like when he comes.

 

 

 

It's not until their fourth lesson that Dan's unspeakable thoughts begin for real. He swears it's not until then. They're practically married.

Besides, it's not his fault Mr Lester said "bye" to him with that goddamn smirk as he left. It's not. He's the victim in this. He's studied enough case files to know this. 

He barely even makes it through the door to his dorm room before his hand is shoved down his trousers, said trousers being tossed across the room less than ten seconds later before he throws himself on his bed, hand in his boxers and beating off like the horny teenage boy he clearly fucking isn't. Not anymore, and wasn't going to act like one. 

And yet.

He jerks his hand along his already ridiculously hard length fast and harsh, almost angry about the whole thing, gritting his teeth as he does. He feels sweat on his forehead as he starts twisting his palm around the head, already swollen and leaking precome. He thinks about Mr. Lester. Mr. Lester pushing him down on his bed, Mr. Lester kneeling between his thighs. Mr. Lester kissing him hard, down over his jaw and his neck, leaving hickeys to mark him as his own. Then taking him in his mouth, oh god, those lips sucking on his dick, hollowing his cheeks to please Dan. Just him. He'd be only his.

Dan comes faster than he thinks he ever has. Whether it's the hardest, too, can be speculated around.

 

 

 

His teacher talks some rubbish before starting the seminar. Mr. Lester sits and stirs his coffee, studying the swirls and bubbles.

The leaves outside the window are crisp, yellow, the clock ticks on and when the teacher finally thanks them for their attention, Dan picks his laptop out of his bag and gets on with his essay. He writes approximately ten words in thirty minutes time, then spends the remaining time zoned out, eyes at the screen, his mind screaming at him as he's once again struck with the thought of how much he bloody hates law school. He only picked it to sound smart, and where has that gotten him? Strung up over a man maybe twice his age, hating every second that isn’t spent staring at him.

At least it's better to have a life crisis at 19 when there's still time to do something about it, he figures.

Without his intention, he's gets so absorbed and lost in his thoughts he flinches when he suddenly feels breathing on his neck. He turns, staring into the bluest eyes he's ever seen. His heart jumps to his throat and stops. But the bluest eyes he's ever seen aren't even interested in him; they're scanning his text on the screen, darting from line to line.

A slight frown plasters itself on Mr. Lester's face.

"Not too sharp today, are we?"

He's stood leaned over Dan's shoulder, one hand on Dan's chair and the other one on the table in front of them to keep him upright. He radiates warmth.

"I think what you have so far is good", he continues. "It is. But you could need a little more, you know. Action." 

Dan wants to give _him_ action.

He looks at Dan for the first time. A scent of expensive cologne washes over Dan, numbing all his other senses for a second; deemed unimportant for the time being.

"Am I making sense, Mr...?"

"Howell", Dan blurts out, far too close to stuttering. "Uh. Dan. Call me Dan."

He thinks he might die. He's too close and too gorgeous and Mr. Lester is going to kill him.

His hyperbolic feelings don't even change when Mr. Lester stands back up, hands on his back again. And they especially don't when he finally says, before walking off: “I’ll have to check on you again, Dan Howell.”

Dan hopelessly nods as he feels himself flush dark pink around his jaw in a rushed mixture of nervosity, shock, excessive adolescent hormones and _embarrassment_. Mix it all together and you get a disgusting, dark sludge, embedding itself in the pit of his stomach, making him sick. He’s sure the feeling will never to leave if things keep on being this way.

Mr. Lester is getting away with murder.

 

 

 

Dan _does_ write some things while he’s in his room over the weekend, but it doesn’t exactly stimulate his need for all-around excitement and he gets stuck after a page written. 

For the next seminar, a couple of days later, he raises his hand first thing he does when the class is started, knowing he’s playing with the gods and has a 50/50 chance of being safe and getting his standard teacher, a 50/50 chance of painful death.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, he’s honestly not sure) it’s Mr. Lester who spots him. ( _Fortunately_ as he blesses him with the facade of a spotted blue tie on a soft white shirt as he walks through the classroom to get to his seat. _Unfortunately_ because he won’t be alive to see another Christmas.) 

He leans over Dan again, looking at his screen. He skims through the lines, nodding to himself as he does.

“Good”, he says. “Much better.”

He pauses, sucks on his bottom lip. Dan wants to die. His voice is monotone when he turns his head to continue.

“You did not write that today.”

A brilliant observation.

Dan cannot bring himself to look back. He lingers. 

“Did not”, he admits.

Mr. Lester seems to accept the answer, for now, and skims through the page again. Dan can see him squinting with concentration and thought in the corner of his eye. 

He drums his fingers quickly against the table, as if he’s had a realisation, an eureka moment, and he stands back up again. 

“See me after class”, he says and walks off. 

 

 

 

Dan is failing this whole school year in general, and Mr. Lester knows this. Dan knows that he knows, not because he can sense it in his brilliant eyes or because Dan’s some sort of mind reader, but because he tells him this. And he sounds concerned when he does.

They're sat at the front of the classroom on opposite sides of a table. Everyone else in Dan's year has gone home. Mr. Lester has his hands in front of him on the tabletop, fingers clasped together, thumbs brushing restlessly against each other. Dan is sitting on his own. His legs shake most discretely and his eyes are set on the almost reflective table surface.

"I'll always take full responsibility if I see one of my students struggle", Mr. Lester tells him, tone blunt and upfront; genuine. "You know I'm here to help you. I'd really like to set this right with you."

It's certainly isn't Mr. Lester's fault. Dan knows that from the bottom of his heart. But it truly isn't his fault either when all his teachers are boring and Mr. Lester has gorgeous blue eyes and the fact Dan wasn't attending God's little get-together when self control was being handed out.

He shrugs.

Mr. Lester leans back in his chair and it creaks, filling the space of silence where Dan knows he should have said something reassuring.

"Let's figure this out”, he says, and he puts the school counselor voice on. Dan still can’t hate him. “Where do you concentrate the best?"

Dan isn’t sure if it’s as much a matter of _where_ as it is _when_. He knows for a fact he definitely concentrates the worst when he’s tired, or angry, when the subject bores him to death or when he’s _definitely not staring at Mr. Lester_.

Dan’s gaze trail up to the windows, shutter blinds drawn down with slight orange-tinted sun peeking through.

"My dorm, probably”, he guesses, then nods. “With no… people, making noise. Right? No social norms apply and disturb my inner peace, or anything."

He’s trying to be funny about it, but he still gets a nod.

"Don't worry, that's a common thing. It's almost like you're all little rebels, and subconsciously get your mind to shut down whenever you're in a place actually designed to study in."

Mr. Lester flashes him a gentle smile. He diverts his eyes and picks up his papers and folders, props them against the table repeatedly to line them up with one another. 

"Well. Do we have ourselves a deal, then?"

Dan tilts his head. 

"Sorry, what?"

"I come to your room and tutor you", Mr. Lester says, matter-of-factly. When he meets Dan’s eyes again, Dan swears he feels himself starting to melt. “Tomorrow? I'm free all evening. I can come see you after class."

Dan has melted. Dan is a puddle on the floor. He’s floored for good and this is all a sick dream.

"Oh, that's truly too much of me to ask for", he laughs, unable to hide his nervosity as his lips tremble alongside his trembling for words.

( _”Is that a date?”_ he doesn’t quite say, the smartass he cannot be while in front of this man.)

But Mr. Lester has already gathered his papers and shoots himself away from the table, standing up beside it without looking back.

"I insist”, he says, and it appears that that’s final. “Besides, you didn't ask for it, did you? So. Take it as a gift."

The sound of his footsteps down the hall are deafening to Dan where he remains seated. He can't decide whether he just lost or won the battle.

 

 

 

“See you in about an hour?” Mr. Lester asks him the next day after his lecture.

Dan stops in his tracks, dumbfounded. People behind him almost bump into him and they have to steer around his figure, barking curses his way. He also gets a wolf whistle.

And it's not like he forgot about it. It’s more that he thought Mr. Lester might have.

Mr. Lester’s eyes are like a car crash today; he can’t tear his gaze away as much as he tries, stuck in the middle of the whole commotion. The smile on his face tells a different story though, and it has Dan feeling weak although he promised himself the previous night when he tossed and turned himself into exhaustion that he was going to be strong. He’s not going to crack. 

He’s not going to have his mental state crack just because Mr. Lester is the most beautiful man he’s ever known, just as well as he’s not going to crack his head on the sidewalk because just school is fucking his life up. This, too, shall pass, he knows all too well.

He nods shyly, pulling his bag over his shoulder before he leaves the room. He practically runs all the way home to his dorm. He locks the door behind him, rips his laptop out of his bag and clicks open iTunes to put on Origin Of Symmetry, throws both his laptop and himself on his bed and screams into his pillow for what feels like five minutes straight, then pulls himself together and starts tidying his room in record speed. His laundry goes in a plastic basket, his plastic basket goes in a corner with a blanket thrown on top of it to hide the hurricane of stained and wrinkled black and grey fabrics. He opens the windows to let fresh air in, decides on closing them again and instead runs to take a shower.

His panic ends with him sprawled out over his bedsheets, _Megalomania_ sounding from the weak speakers. His hair is now shower soft, curly at the ends; way too run down to get up and straighten it.

That’s when there’s a knock on his door.

He has no time to freak out, because then he would freak out Mr. Lester, who would give up and leave, and Dan would never dare show up to class again. (Which would _not_ be an acceptable reason in his mum’s eyes to drop out during his first term of university.)

He gets up and draws a hand through his hair from back to front, pushing his fringe down in his face before he tries to untangle the wet bits in the back. He pulls on his shirt and takes a deep breath. When he opens the door, he's almost floored again by the beauty about to enter his sanctuary. 

Mr. Lester has taken his suit jacket off, probably left it in the office or something. His sleeves are rolled up, and Dan is struck with that scent of cologne and that god-awful smile again. 

He greets Dan with two cups of tea, reaches one out for him before he even has time to say hello.

"Three sugars. Figured we both deserved that", he says, looking over Dan's shoulder into his room. "Do I hear Muse?"

Dan looks like a gasping fish on land. He grabs the cup and nearly burns his hands off because he forgets there is such a thing as a handle. 

"Y-yeah", he breathes, taking a step back and motioning for Mr. Lester to step inside. "I can turn it off, if you want."

"Not if you don't want to. They're one of my favourites, actually."

_Mr. Lester is my my room Mr. Lester is in my room Mr. Lester is in my room Mr. Lester is in my room_

"Oh, well, gee. Let me just change the CD then, since this dumbass has already listened to the whole thing."

He walks over to his bed, putting his steaming cup away on his nightstand before bending down to his laptop. He puts on Resistance instead, unsure if it's a safe card to play. He scoots his laptop away and sits down on the not-so-bouncy mattress.

Mr. Lester is right behind him, sipping his tea. Dan is about to have a heart attack but notices he's just looking at the drawings up on the wall by his bed, not at him.

"I love this song", Mr. Lester mumbles absently to Dan's iTunes window.

He's trailing over the drawings with those blue eyes, suddenly seeming to be shifting in colour, green and grey and yellow. Dan wants to taste the Earl Grey and sugar on his lips. Wants to pull him down and never let him go, have him be his. 

Getting warmth from his tea cup instead of from Mr. Lester's chest while having his arms wrapped around him and his fingers caressing him to sleep seems like some kind of sick torture.

"Yeah, me too", Dan says when he registers it's _Uprising_ playing.

And he wonders if he would have said the same if he would have chosen _Invincible?_ _Starlight?_

_Neutron Star Collision?_

"Should we get going, then?" Mr. Lester asks him without looking down, and Dan knows what he means but when he's so close to his bed, he can't stop himself from considering his options. 

"Fetch me my textbook?" he says instead.

 

 

 

They've listened to both Resistance and Absolution, all songs who-must-not-be-named passing in the background merely as a distant soundtrack for their laughter and conversations. It's closing in on eleven when Mr. Lester starts wrapping it up and asking Dan a short series of questions to make sure something has stuck with him from their time together. Dan admits he has probably learned more than he has the whole year.

(On a side note, he's never been too good with statistics.)

Mr. Lester packs his stuff and gathers their long forgotten tea cups when he's ready to leave.

"Promise you'll try to work on your essay", he says, balancing all the things in a dangerous looking tower construction.

He walks over to the door and Dan follows behind. "Woah, no commitments. But I promise I'll try to."

"Your teacher will most certainly kill me if you don't."

Dan rolls his eyes, smiling as he does. He slips around him to open the door.

"You know, after all this talk about How To Get Away With Murder..." Dan stops, hand on the handle. He smiles crookedly. "My teacher doesn’t have nearly the same knowledge. So maybe _I_ can learn to get away with _an unfinished essay_."

Dan gestures his sarcasm with exaggerated hand gestures and raised eyebrows, and Mr. Lester seems to fall for it as he barks a laugh. He then shakes his head. 

“You're making my job very difficult", he smiles. 

Sighing, he looks into Dan's eyes. The room is so still and dark. Dan can't decide which colour they are anymore.

"I’m starting to doubt you like me, Howell.”

They dance round in a ring and suppose, but the secret sits in the middle and knows.

 

 

 

Before being able to sleep that night, Dan is rolling his hips and humping his pillow until there's a rip in the seam, though he doesn't notice as his head is thrown back and his eyes are closed, thinking about fucking Mr. Lester's mouth again.

 

 

 

By the end of the month, Dan realises how he’s only going to class anymore to see Mr. Lester. He even raises his hand once to answer a question when it’s handed out and he can’t help but to dwell upon the fact Mr. Lester picked him first because his eyes already were on him.

Though he only realises how much he’s become the teacher’s pet when he’s sat studying in the cafeteria later in the day with a boiling hot cup of tea, and someone plops something into it for him. When he looks up, he sees no one less than Mr. Lester, a package of sugar cubes in his hands. He walks on and puts three cubes into his own tea cup, a few tables away.

“Silent treatment?” Dan calls after him. “Literally.”

Mr. Lester looks over his shoulder and smiles at him. He leaves the package on the table and returns to Dan.

“Just treatment”, he says. He stands beside the table and grips around his cup with both hands. “I can talk.”

“Tell me, then, mister.” Dan clasps his hands together on the tabletop, totally meaning serious business. “Do you just, like, constantly wander around the school grounds? Like a cursed spirit?” 

Only half the mockery seeps through his voice, because Mr. Lester may be pretty fucking lame, but he’s ridiculously adorable all the same.

“Don’t you have anyone waiting at home? Even a _dog_?” Then he quickly adds with a tilt of his head: “I’m asking out of concern, of course.”

Mr. Lester just sort of grins at him. He draws his fingers in front of his mouth as if closing a zipper. “Teacher’s oath. Though I quite enjoyed the cursed spirit parable.”

“Thanks, worked hard on that one.”

“You’re very special.” He shrugs, looks at the ceiling. “ _Excentric_ , other people might put it.”

“Well I don’t mean to”, Dan cries and flops his arms out. 

Mr. Lester just waves him off while laughing, and Dan pouts at him.

“It’s a biological trait, I swear.”

He doesn’t ask for him to explain further than that. He doesn’t even ask him why he’s trying to have him overdose on sugar. He appreciates the gesture as it is, and besides, the mystery is half the fun.

“Okay, but. Really.” Dan points at a passage in his papers as he sips his tea. It’s scolding, but the sweetness from the actual _fourth_ piece of sugar makes up for it; he’d already taken Mr. Lester’s advice from their last time together, figuring he deserved it. “Why don’t you sit down and explain to me why this lady can’t get custody of her kids.”

Mr. Lester puts his cup down next to Dan’s and pulls a chair out. He slips down beside him and hunches over the papers. 

He points at a part in the text, goes “Here?” and it’s completely off, so Dan gently grabs ahold of him by the wrist and moves it to the place in the text where he’s struggling. (He tries to ignore the feeling of an electric shock that goes through him when he does.)

Mr. Lester keeps his finger poking at the paragraph even after Dan draws his hand back and puts it in his lap. 

“This makes no sense”, he mutters under his breath and it’s just so bloody relatable it makes Dan burst out laughing.

 

 

 

They don't have another private tutoring (at least not in Dan’s room), but they do however speak again during lessons. Dan gets to recommend him more music he likes, like Radiohead, Arcade Fire, even Kanye, and Mr. Lester gets to just be his absolutely wonderful self, making Dan's days complete in ten minutes or less. Dan even asks what his name is. It's Phil. He has a giant crush on a Phil Lester. 

Once, when he lowkey stalks him online, and it’s totally not in a creepy way, he stumbles upon a long-since abandoned Twitter account. He stumbles upon a blurry selfie and lame compositions of words about the weather and lions. He stumbles upon friends and things related to when he studied to become a teacher, and then he stumbles upon an ex named Charlie; a male Charlie, a cute gay Charlie, a long gone Charlie but still a Charlie and not a _Charlotte_. This unknown Charlie changes his whole life, and he stumbles over _himself_ when he paces back and forth in his room with his hands over his mouth, squealing and cursing alternately, stress and happiness burning within his stomach and rumbling inside his head.

When Dan later jerks off with two fingers pumping in and out of him, he imagines being fucked by Mr. Phil Lester, bent over his desk as he spanks his ass and pulls his head back by his hair to suck and nib on his neck. He has to bite his pillow to not scream when he comes.

 

 

 

They get a test with case files Dan hasn't studied horribly hard for, but he still feels like it went just fine as he leaves his papers in. It's his regular teacher sitting at the desk that he's suddenly so used to seeing Mr. Lester sit at, and he finds himself missing the thrill of just walking past him.

When he goes outside to cross the yard and enter the student accommodations, he spots the black mess of hair among the yellow and red swirl of leaves. Mr. Lester is sat on a bench with a book and a cup of tea, his figure hidden in a large black coat, and Dan is loving this whole concept of falling in love in the autumn. He doesn't protest when his legs start to force their way over to him.

"Sup, hipster", he says, stopping in front of him.

Mr. Lester looks up, squints against the sun before he pushes his glasses up. He smiles. "Good afternoon, Dan Howell. Test went fine?"

“Suppose so.” Dan shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets, drawing his shoulders up as a cold wind graces his skin. "Aren't you cold?"

The wind flies past him and rustles the leaves above them, making the trees wave their arms at the skies.

Mr. Lester shrugs, folding the page in his paperback before closing it. Him taking from his precious time to talk to Dan still feels slightly overwhelming.

"I'm from the north, kiddo. You haven't seen nothing."

"Wo-hao there", Dan exclaims, fake-amazed, but can't help but chuckle as he does.

“Besides, you’re the one in such formal wear today, aren’t you?”

Mr. Lester smiles, triumphant, and Dan rolls his eyes, tugging his opened hoodie closed. “ _Wow_.”

“I didn’t get the memo. I must have-”

Dan waves him off and interrupts him, and instead he points at the book in his hands.

“I got it. What’s that?”

Mr. Lester looks down on the book, then holds it up as if expecting it.

“Oh! Just… picked it up today.” He flips it around in his hand, as if he already hadn’t before choosing it in the library. “Palmistry, it’s called.”

Dan plops down next to him on the bench. He crosses a leg over the other and puts his hands in his lap. “What’s palmistry?”

He likes learning anything as long as it’s Mr. Lester sharing his knowledge. 

( _’Is that seriously how far gone I am?’_ he thinks.)

Mr. Lester smiles and puts his book down beside him. He turns to Dan and reaches for his wrist. Dan doesn’t have time to react and meet him halfway; he lightly grabs his wrist from his lap and flips his hand, lies the back of it against Dan’s thigh and spreads his fingers. 

Holding his wrist with one hand, he traces a line in his palm with the index finger of his other one.

“This is your life line”, he says, and Dan tries hard not to visibly shudder. His hands are cold, having been holding the book in the chilly weather outside, but somehow they still manage to make Dan feel all warm and fuzzy. In fact, he turns into absolute jelly.

He stares in awe as Mr. Lester finds two other lines. He traces them separately with a nimble finger, and he clears his throat before he continues, voice low and his face close to Dan’s.

“This is your head line.” A stop, a change to the other one. “And this, this is your heart line.”

Dan’s throat feels dry. He wants to close his fingers around Mr. Lester’s.

He wets his lips. “What’s that mean?”

Mr. Lester looks up from his hand and into his eyes. Today, they’re big and round behind their black frames, icy blue like when the moon shines on snow during winter nights.

He feels his warm breath on his lips.

“I haven’t gotten that far yet”, he admits.

Silence. They linger, then Dan huffs.

_Funny_. 

Mr. Lester lets go of his hand and Dan snatches it back before it starts sliding off his lap, because god knows where it could end up then.

Mr. Lester resorts to sip his tea while Dan tries to get over the fact his head is spinning. He feels dizzy and slightly disoriented, but he knows he’d be shooting off into space if this had happened earlier in the month. 

It’s like a paradigm shift within his mind.

He looks up and finds Mr. Lester looking at him from behind his tea cup. He diverts his eyes as soon as they get eye contact.

“Stop staring at me”, Dan blurts out from the top of his head, and it’s such a stupid fucking thing to say, but worse is he doesn’t sound angry when he says it.

He sounds absolutely calm.

“Not staring”, Mr. Lester mutters into his cup, to the echo bouncing off its porcelain walls. He takes another sip as he turns to put it down. “Just admiring.”

Dan glares at him. The neatly cut hair, his pale skin. He can’t tell if he’s joking. 

“Nevermind, then?”

"I need to have a chat with you later”, Mr. Lester says quickly but drearily without looking back. As if the whole conversation was just leading up to him saying that; like a painful goodbye.

Dan sucks on his tongue and actually thinks about it, because it is a friday afternoon. And yet, with just that, Mr. Lester invites himself over to Dan's dorm room again. And then, he takes his things and leaves. 

Dan finds it very nonsensical, because he's never had someone over to just "talk" in his room before. Late afternoons there are usually spent playing Guitar Hero if he's with friends, and browsing the internet or jerking off if he's alone. It's true, facing Mr. Lester doesn't frighten him anymore, and they could have just "talked" in the lecture hall, no problem. But that's not the case, and this _is_ in fact a problem. A real fucking huge one, for some reason.

His nerves of not knowing what is to expect get the best of him when he comes home. He plays some Halo but can't relax; he keeps dying and his online opponents teabag him into oblivion. His friend from class texts him about a party in his room but he declines with the excuse he's expecting company. The clock passes half past seven before he dares go to grab something from the fridge to eat, just in case Mr. Lester would come around at just his usual dinner time. And the clock passes ten before Dan starts realising he's been stood up. Messed with and fucking stood up.

His eyes are sore and strangely, his heart feels the same. He almost decides to start hating Mr. Lester as he gets up and gets dressed and heads to the party.

 

 

 

He has downed two glasses of vodka and coke before he leaves the cramped dorm room behind. The people there bore him to death and he decides he can have more fun trashing his own room, or just, like, play Final Fantasy VII until he passes out.

He stumbled down the corridor, and he’s almost by his door when he looks up from fiddling with his keys. Mr. Lester stands there, outside his door, tie slightly undone and hair a mess. 

Dan stops in his tracks, staring down the hall.

"You remember where I live", he states to the obscure figure. He nods slowly, having that fact sink in for a second. "That's not creepy."

Mr. Lester doesn’t reply. He silently looks back at Dan, and Dan starts walking again, closing the gap between them. The tension in the air makes it feel harder to move forward.

"I'm joking, obviously", he hurries to add, afraid he's offended.

"It's fine", Mr. Lester assures.

The first hint Dan gets is that he no longer smells primarily of cologne; not even a trace of a sweet tea scent lingers on his skin, nor in the air around them. He can smell the tequila, the vodka, and he tilts his head as he looks at him, waiting for him to say something. But nothing comes.

"Are you okay?" he asks instead.

Mr. Lester shakes his head to interrupt him.

"Look." He holds a hand up with his palm facing Dan, as if he's in an argument and about to get bombarded with questions. "I'm sorry I didn't come. I know what that makes it look like- what kind of person I seem to be, now."

Dan can truly see the regret in his eyes, though his own vision is clouded by the alcohol pumping through his veins; pumping faster now that this ridiculously beautiful man is stood in front of him again.

Mr. Lester leans in closer, almost whispering in Dan’s ear. “Can we go inside? We still need to talk.” He gives him a serious look. “For real, this time.”

Dan doesn’t feel hurt anymore, just confused.

He just nods.

He unlocks his door and grabs Mr. Lester by the wrist to steer him inside; all his previous fears seem so unimportant, shadowed by the liquid racing in his system. He throws his keys onto his nightstand as he hears Mr. Lester close the door behind them. It’s dark in the room, and Dan is about to switch the lights on but when he turns around, Mr. Lester’s frame is covering his path there. He stares back at him. Some strands of hair have fallen into his face and his eyes feel electric. He looks rugged, and (Dan can’t help it) really fucking sexy.

Dan slips his hand around his body, brushing against his waist slightly as he reaches, not for the light, but for the lock on the door, and the click when he flicks it fills the silence between them. He pulls back and looks at him again. Mr. Lester is biting his lip. 

"I don't want you to see me as a... bad person”, he starts, voice slightly raspy. He turns his head away from him.

Dan unzips his hoodie. He shrugs it off his shoulders, tossing it aside.

“That’s not what... this is about”, Mr. Lester continues. He clears his throat. “I don’t want you to think I dislike you."

Dan chews on his bottom lip as he pulls his T-shirt over his head. It lands in a heap with his hoodie. The room smells so strongly of alcohol and Dan misses the scent of Mr. Lester, and he takes a step closer, wants to find it again. His movement has Mr. Lester looking back at him again. He gulps.

“What else?” Dan says.

Hands get placed on Dan’s bare shoulders, warm and heavy. Mr. Lester’s fingers curl into his skin, as if he’s afraid he’s going to slip out of his grasp.

"I want you to know, I'm sorry."

He starts taking slow steps forward, pushing Dan into walking backwards as he goes. Dan swallows a knot in his throat. Strangely, he lets him.

Mr. Lester has carefully but purposefully pushed Dan down on top of the bed when he speaks again. "And I want you to know, Dan, that it won’t happen again.”

Dan feels goosebumps over his upper body. He's not sure whether he should talk to him into sobering up, or if he should let this play out. Either way, he's getting hard. Really fucking hard.

"And what now?" he asks, surprised by how weak his voice is sounding. He's not sure where to place his emotions. He’s not sure if he’s ready for whatever may come.

Mr. Lester kneels down on the bed and grins at him. "I think... I'm about to make it up to you."

He shifts, slots a thigh between Dan’s trembling ones, making Dan gasp. He covers his mouth with his hand, just as embarrassed as he’s afraid someone’s going to walk in on them and put an end to it. He doesn’t want it to end.

Mr. Lester leans down over him. Dan nervously clenches his fingers over his jaw but Mr. Lester grabs his wrist. He grabs the other one too and holds them above Dan’s head. His tie tickles Dan’s chest and he feels butterflies in his stomach as much as he suddenly feels his dick twitch, and he knows Mr. Lester can feel it too, because he emits a breathy laugh. 

"Is this okay?" Mr. Lester whispers, breath gracing Dan's lips.

His thigh is right between Dan’s legs; he can feel the warmth against his throbbing semi-hard dick through his jogging bottoms, tightening more each moment passing.

He just nods.

Mr. Lester hungrily presses his lips against his neck. Dan arches his back and gasps again. It’s as if he knows his neck is his weak spot; he swears he could come from someone just sucking and biting on it.

And it’s as if Mr. Lester knows that, too.

He parts his lips, wet and warm on Dan’s sweet spot as he nuzzles his face into the crook of his neck, sure to leave a mark for the next morning as he starts kissing him hard. Dan can’t help but moan, a long “oh, god” as he tries to move his hips to get some friction but can’t wriggle out of his teacher’s grasp. It has Mr. Lester chuckling.

"Just tell me to stop and I will”, he murmurs against his neck.

Mr. Lester bites the skin as he suddenly grinds his hips so that his thigh ruts against Dan’s crotch, his own hard cock rubbing against Dan’s upper thigh. Dan’s eyes flutter shut and he whines and moans all at the same time, hopelessly tangling his legs around Mr. Lester’s, digging his nails into his palms. He curses, then shakes his head.

"I'm not going to tell you to stop”, he whispers back.

Mr. Lester grinds his hips again, harder, and Dan’s jaw hangs slack as he furrows his brow, tilting his head slightly for Mr. Lester to bite him again, the sharper pain mixing with his pleasure and somehow becoming part of it. He grinds into him again and again while he lets go of his wrists and puts his elbow down beside him to keep himself upright, the other hand immediately on Dan’s body, running up and down his naked torso and wrapping around the side of his neck. Dan wraps his arms around his body, clinging to the back of his suit shirt like it’s for dear life, fists clenched in the sheer fabric.

He barely realises what’s happening when he feels warmth in his lower abdomen, and even though there’s layers and layers of clothes between them it feels so good being fucked into the mattress, all tangled up and controlled and then he comes, hard and wet, squeezing his eyes shut and cursing loudly. He shudders, throwing his head back, sure he would have badly scratched the man above him had he not had his shirt on to keep them apart.

He’s left panting, whimpering slightly and sweat gleaming on his forehead, and he feels the vibrations through his body when Mr. Lester grunts against his neck, rutting into him as he comes. He punctuates each thrust with a low, throaty moan as he rides out his orgasm. 

Dan hears his heavy breaths beside him as he comes down from the high, and he loosens his grip on his shirt but still keeps his hand there on the warmth. He can’t wrap his mind around it, but all he knows is that he still doesn’t want it to end. Even if it’s just lying on the bed catching their breaths together, he wants to lay there breathing for the rest of his life.

But it becomes evident that that’s not going to happen when Mr. Lester suddenly pulls back. He stands up on wobbly legs, and he slaps a hand to his forehead. 

Undoubtedly, he’s still the most attractive person Dan’s ever seen. All fucked out, messy and sweaty, a dark spot in the front of his jeans.

But the look on his face makes Dan’s heart drop, and he shuffles up in the bed, the sticky mess in his pants bothering him only slightly. “Um. Are you... okay?”

Mr. Lester draws his hands down, pushes his fingers underneath his glasses and rubs his eyes. He shakes his head.

“Oh, god”, he mumbles. 

He covers his mouth with one hand instead, the other one pushing his hair out of his face as he hurries out of the room, slamming the door behind himself.

Dan is left on the bed, stained and used. 

 

 

 

Dan can’t bring himself to go to class after the weekend. He emails his standard teacher Mr. Boring-As-Fuck how he’s caught a cold and will work on his essay from home. In reality, he imagines he’s doing both him and Mr. Lester a favour by not showing up. 

Thing is, he doesn’t go to class the next appointed time either. He doesn’t even work on his essay, in spirit of that pure, disgusting teen rebellion, he supposes. His mind goes to different places each time he tries and in the end he just gives up. Instead he plays Rockband, or Guitar Hero 5, actively avoiding _Plug In Baby_ in said game as well as whatever else related to what they’ve spoke of and he _definitely never thinks about Mr. Lester_.

(He actually only thoroughly does as he looks in the mirror, touching the bruises wrapping all around the side of his neck. He thinks to himself that everything that has happened is going to fade in time with these marks on his skin.)

Thursday rolls around before there’s a knock on his door. He already knows who it is before he opens it.

“You can’t keep doing this.”

The angry cloud that is Mr. Lester slips inside his idyllic sanctuary, pushing the door closed and towering up before Dan. He’s wearing a dark blue dress shirt with sleeves rolled up over his upper arms, black tie, black trousers, black shoes almost stepping on Dan’s toes. Dan is just in a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms.

“They know we were close - _getting_ closer, whatever. They know we were _talking_ and they’ll suspect something, sooner or later. If you don’t come back, we’re done for. We’re bloody _screwed_.”

Dan pushes his lips together and raises his eyebrows. He pops his mouth.

“Hello to you too”, he says.

Mr. Lester pinches the bridge of his nose. He pushes his glasses up as he groans, frustrated.

“You do realize the importance of this situation, don’t you?” He points a finger at Dan, as if accusing him. _Him_. “Had to go drink my nerves to even come talk to you… I was going to tell you to lay off, or get you to make me lay off, and what came out of it? God! It was a stupid thing and it shouldn’t have happened. Hell, I wish I’d never come at all!”

Dan feels a pang in his chest at the words, and it must show in his face because Mr. Lester’s harsh exterior suddenly drops and he’s back to his usual self, concerned and far too kind.

“Jesus christ, Dan. I’m sorry.” He reaches out to touch him, then he stops as if he realises he’s not supposed to. As if he’s going to break under his touch if he does. He clenches his fist and withdraws his hand. His voice is lower when he continues: “I’ve screwed things up so bad.”

He leans back against the door, looking up into the ceiling.

“This is going to get me fired.”

Mr. Lester rubs his face underneath his glasses, eyes squeezed shut. Dan doesn’t quite know what to say, but strangely, he recognizes some of his own emotions in Mr. Lester’s words.

He looks down on the ground, but he nods to himself. 

“So, what you’re saying is… This is awful. Isn’t it? And, I bring out the worst in you?”

Dan realises how cheesy it is he remembers their first lecture together. Word by word, he can quote the exact moment. He also realises how uncalled for it must be to bring it up right in that moment, because this is totally the cue for their breakup.

Mr. Lester furrows his brow and looks at him, seemingly recognizing his own words from so many weeks ago.

“You bring out the worst in me too, then, I suppose.”

“What do you-” Mr. Lester stops, contemplating it. His mouth is open in shock. “Oh, god.”

Dan looks down on Mr. Lester’s mismatching socks. And he supposes, the secret no longer sits in the middle and knows. Though cryptic, he’s certain it knows nothing. And Mr. Lester knows everything.

They _like_ each other. They really do.

He looks up again and Mr. Lester is still staring at him. His eyes are so many different colours Dan doesn’t even know the name of, nor does he know the way to describe them and still give them their justice. Dan looks into them until Mr. Lester’s gaze trails off and catches on something else. He reaches forward, and Dan thinks for a second he's about to touch his face, pull him close and kiss him. Instead he withdraws his hand with a tiny feather between his finger and thumb. It most likely originates from Dan's broke ass pillow.

"Floof", he declares, as if he thinks it's funny.

Dan doesn't think it's bloody funny.

However.

"I'll have that back, please", Dan says and takes it from him, because he knows that had he not made a joke out of it right back at him then he might have died right then and there.

Mr. Lester keeps his hand in the same position in the air, a puzzled expression on his face. He’s so beautiful like that, but the thought drops out of Dan’s head as Mr. Lester drops his hand to his side.

"Well", he begins, and then it's like he doesn't know how to end it. 

Neither does Dan.

He realises he's still holding the pillow feather and shakes it from his hand with a bothered look on his face. This has both of them cracking up and they laugh together.

And _then_ Mr. Lester kisses him.

It’s quick, it’s stupid, but when Mr. Lester pulls back Dan shakes his head no, and he stands on his toes to reach up to him and meet his lips again. Mr. Lester wraps an arm around his waist to hold him tight, the other one finding its way to the back of his head, burying his fingers in his hair as he slips his tongue past his lips and kisses him deeper. Dan’s hands grip the back of his suit shirt as if it’s his only link left to sanity.

Mr. Lester lets go of him after a while and Dan staggers backwards, lips kissed red and swollen, and he doesn’t feel bad when he sees Mr. Lester’s look just the same.

“This can’t keep happening”, he says, but he still closes the gap between them.

Dan shakes his head, grabbing those biceps he has dreamed about touching and pulls him on top of himself on the bed.

“We should stop right now”, Dan says, and Mr. Lester kisses him silent.

Dan starts fumbling with the belt of Mr. Lester’s trousers, metal clinking as he tugs them down his thighs. He grabs his ass through his colourful boxers and Mr. Lester chuckles against his lips. Dan feels his big, hard cock against his thigh and it’s like last time, except now he can actually think enough to remember to enjoy it. Mr. Lester pulls back only to grab ahold of Dan’s t-shirt and pull it over his head. He runs his hands over the bronze skin, almost possessively, and Dan grabs his tie and yanks him down, crashing their lips together again. 

He starts unbuttoning Mr. Lester’s shirt in between them, fighting hard to resist the urge to rip it apart and have buttons flying everywhere. He pulls it off his shoulders and Mr. Lester takes it from there while Dan gets to run his hands from his lean stomach to his chest, over his collarbones and shoulders. He reluctantly withdraws one hand to lift himself off the mattress as Mr. Lester helps tug his pyjama bottoms off. They’re pulled down to his knees and Dan kicks them off the rest of the way. He flinches and draws a sharp breath through his nose as Mr. Lester’s hands are suddenly grabbing over both outsides of his hips.

Mr. Lester moves away from the kiss, settling on his knees on the floor, face between Dan’s legs. Dan leans up on his elbows and he’s jutting his hips up at the mere sight. He can’t even count how many times he has imagined the scenario in his head. 

Mr. Lester pulls him closer to him by his waist, then leans his chin on one bare thigh, lolls his head to the side and leaves a gentle kiss. Dan’s cock is aching in his boxers and Mr. Lester’s slight scruff is burning his skin. His mouth creates an o-shape before he bites his lip to shut himself up.

“God, you’re so hot”, Mr. Lester mutters, reading Dan’s mind completely, and he bites the skin on his thigh before leaving a soothing kiss over the bruising spot. Dan just whimpers.

He reaches a hand up and ghosts his fingers over Dan’s package. Dan shudders, and he throws his head back as his eyes flutter closed. 

“Fuck, oh fuck”, Dan chokes out. 

His fists are clenched and his stomach feels tight. He needs to be touched or he thinks he might _explode_.

“I’m going to blow you”, Mr. Lester informs him. He runs his hand down the outside of his thigh, curls it around the inside. “Okay?”

Dan nods and hums. He wants to tremble under his touch and completely surrender.

He opens his eyes wide when he feels Mr. Lester mouthing at his dick through his boxers. He lays his tongue flat against the head, then slowly kisses over its width. Dan buries his fingers in the sheets and tries to resist hooking his legs around Mr. Lester and pulling him in.

Mr. Lester grabs the waistband of his boxers as he keeps mouthing over the hardness. When he peels them off, Dan realises he’s not only wet from the dampening kisses; he’s leaking precome, and his hard cock slaps against his lower abdomen when his boxers are yanked down. Dan feels himself flush dark red, but Mr. Lester looks close to mesmerized.

“Oh, wow”, he nearly _gasps_. He furrows his brow and looks away. He draws a deep breath. “Lift your legs for me?”

Dan does, and Mr. Lester pulls his boxers off his feet. He immediately goes for grabbing Dan’s ankles and putting them on his shoulders. As if he fucking _knew_ that was all Dan was aching for.

“Putting ideas in my head”, he mutters. 

Dan thinks of a witty reply but Mr. Lester’s warm tongue trailing from his balls up the underside of his dick cuts him off into a hearty moan. He slaps his hand in front of his mouth, but Mr. Lester reaches for his arm and pulls it away.

“Don’t”, he says, before taking Dan into his mouth.

Dan is speechless, his mind racing, though he thinks he curses and moans and shivers all the same as Mr. Lester hollows his cheeks around him, lowering himself on his dick. Dan’s hand sort of levitates above Mr. Lester’s head as he watches through half-lidded eyes before he dares put it down and intertwine his fingers in the black strands. (It feels as beautiful as it looks.)

He lets his hand follow the movements of Mr. Lester as he bobs his head for him, one hand wrapping around the base of his dick and jerking off where his mouth can’t reach. Dan feels his warm tongue swipe along the underside of his dick and he thinks he’s going to have to remind him he’s still practically a teenager with no self control and an excessive amount of hormones, when he pulls off of him with a pop.

“Do you have lube?” he asks, breath ragged.

Dan shakes his head, almost shamefully so. How he fucking wishes he did.

“Damn it”, Mr. Lester mutters, looking off as to think. Then his lip twitches. “Well. Have you done this before?”

Dan knows he’s blushing when he replies. “I have.”

Mr. Lester smirks. Dan watches him reach for his trousers and retrieve a condom wrapper. He puts it on himself with steady hands, then runs his large hands across Dan’s thighs.

“Fuck yourself while I blow you”, he says. “Yeah?”

Dan nods. As Mr. Lester takes him into his mouth again, Dan puts two fingers in his mouth and sucks on them. It’s ridiculously erotic while watching Mr. Lester bob his head around his length as both of them keep eye contact. It’s so close to the fantasies Dan has previously had, except it feels way better; Mr. Lester’s mouth all warm and wet and wrapped around him, tongue constantly working and pleasuring him. 

Dan reaches his fingers further into his mouth, as far as they go, and Mr. Lester stops with his lips wrapped around the head of Dan’s dick as he watches. His fingers hit the back of his throat; he doesn’t gag. They stare, silent, then Mr. Lester flicks his tongue over his slit and Dan quivers and pulls his fingers out with a snort.

“Kay. Sorry.”

Mr. Lester chuckles slightly around his length, and Dan has to contain himself and not moan over the vibrations it sends through his body. He pulls off of him again.

“You don’t have to brag, Dan”, he mumbles.

Dan laughs, and it’s almost desperate. He speaks fast and low. “Thing is I _really want to suck you off_.”

He reaches his arm around his thigh to his ass, trying to pretend as if he did not just say that. But Mr. Lester just grins. 

“All in due time, I suppose”, he says, and takes him into his mouth again.

Dan moans and tries to reach around himself, and he forces both fingers inside himself at once. He wants this to happen. He _needs_ this to happen _now_. He forces them in to his knuckles, and he hisses and groans. Feeling filled up and used has been a kink for the longest time, but having something feel so fucking good on his dick while feeling said things, it’s completely new. 

He attempts to move his fingers; pushes them in and out and bends and hooks them, and he can’t help it when he bucks into Mr. Lester’s mouth slightly. He barely reacts, just puts his hands up and holds Dan’s hips down. Warmth curls in his stomach. He can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck me”, he suddenly tells him as he pulls out of himself.

Mr. Lester flicks his eyes up at him, as if trying to see if he’s joking. He grabs his dick by the base and pulls off.

“You sure?” he asks, teasing, and slaps his dick against his lips. “I’m quite enjoying myself.”

Dan draws a big, shaky breath and closes his eyes. 

“Please stop”, he whimpers. He slowly shakes his head. “I need you to fuck me _right now_.”

He opens his eyes again and Mr. Lester has his head tilted to the side. His brow is furrowed in that adorable way again.

“Are you… stretched enough?”

“I don’t care.”

Mr. Lester tilts his head back.

“Dan.”

“I’m really fucking close, okay?” he whines, loudly. He flops his hands onto the mattress in frustration. “I’m 19, for christ’s fucking sake, and if you don’t put your fucking dick inside me anytime soon, you’re just going to have to leave. God, I haven’t even gotten to _see_ it and I really fucking _want to_ , you know that?”

He falls backwards onto his back, frustrated and really ridiculously horny, and somewhere in the middle, embarrassed as fuck of himself. He hears Mr. Lester shuffle around and thinks to himself he’s going to get up and leave because Dan is acting psychotic. He feels his legs being moved off his shoulders and his feet placed on the bed, and he remains lying there listening to his own breaths coming in little pants.

“I really like you, Dan”, he hears Mr. Lester say, and when Dan looks up he has lined himself up against him, standing beside the bed with one knee on the mattress. He thrusts inside him and Dan’s head falls back with a gasp. “But you’re a real whiny bitch sometimes.”

His gasp is exhaled in a groan and he buries his fingers in the sheets again, toes curling and knees drawing closer together, but Mr. Lester forces them apart again. 

“Aah, fuck”, he whimpers, and his thighs are actually trembling. “You’re so big, Phil. Shit.”

Mr. Lester flashes him a smile. “You remember my name.”

Dan lets his eyes flutter shut.

“Course”, he grunts, barely realising he’s sliding out of him again. “Mmh. Thought about you a lot.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Mr. Lester grips hard around his hips and slam into him again. Dan nearly _shrieks_ , because it’s still uncomfortable and he’s way too tight, but his dick still twitches noticeably every other second because _Mr. Lester is fucking him and he looks so fucking hot while he does it_.

“What did you think about?” Mr. Lester pushes, stroking with his thumbs over the edge of Dan’s hip bones, jutting out where he lies quivering.

He’s stopped to let him adjust further, but this time Dan is prepared for another merciless thrust.

“Ha, _fuck_. You don’t wanna know.”

“I do”, Mr. Lester purrs. He leans forward over Dan’s body, gracing his tongue over the skin. Dan hisses when he licks over his nipple. “Did you want me as badly as I wanted you?”

Dan’s chest heaves as he plays with it with his tongue. He’s stuttering now.

“Hm, uh, yeah... I guess you could-” He’s cut off by another trust; unexpected. “ _Ah_! Yeah. Oh, fuck, yeah, I did. I wanted you so badly and I had no idea how to deal with it, _fuck_.”

Mr. Lester thrusts have gotten to a regular pace as he moves to kiss his neck. Dan moans just as soon as he feels his lips on his skin.

“What did you want to do with me?” he mumbles against his throat, sucking hard for a second. “Or, what did you want _me_ to do _to you_?”

“Wanted… Mm, wanted you to fuck me hard.” 

Dan jerks his head to the side, allowing Mr. Lester more access. 

“Over the desk”, he continues, near breathless. “Fuck, I wanted you to just bend me over and tell me how bad I’d been.”

“Cliché”, Mr. Lester scoffs. He leaves a peck before he pulls back. “Though I suppose, that can be arranged.”

His pace is faster, their skin slamming together. Dan fights hard to keep it together but knows he can’t touch himself or he’ll come in an instant. It doesn’t get better when Mr. Lester in some swift movement pulls Dan up, a disoriented “woah” emitted before Mr. Lester hooks his arms under his legs. Next thing he knows, he’s pinned against the wall, being _pounded against the wall_ with Mr. Lester’s arms holding him up and keeping his legs apart.

“This okay?”

Mr. Lester thrusts hard and so fast into him with a pair of strong arms hooked under his knees; he’s on fire, and the wall is so fucking cold behind him.

Strangled moans escape him and nods as a reply, and he feels so small and like he’s all in Mr. Lester’s control. He’s right at the brink of the edges of his world whiting out as incoherent mumbling slips past his lips until he can form words.

“Oh god oh fuck fuck _fuck_ gonna come so fast--”

“It’s okay”, Mr. Lester coos, though he’s sounding like he’s straining himself. “I got you. Come on, Dan. _Come_.”

Dan wets his lips and nods. He wraps his hand around his length, jerks his hand fast and instantly bucks his hips; his orgasm hits him like fucking freight train. His breath hitches in his throat as he shudders, moans loudly and almost high-pitched as his cum sprays over his stomach in white ribbons. Mr. Lester ruts into him for a while longer as he rides out his orgasm, thrusting into his own hand and running his thumb along the flushed head.

Mr. Lester takes a step towards the bed and slips out of him as he lays Dan down. He straddles Dan’s chest and Dan immediately pushes out a “you can fuck my throat” as he reaches up to wrap his lips around him. Mr. Lester hums a response and grips onto his hair, bucking his hips at the same speed as they had been rutting into Dan moments before. His pace quickens, Dan’s gag reflex kicks in and he feels tears in his eyes as he chokes but he keeps the eye contact as if to tell him not to let it stop him. He keeps his lips tightly wrapped around him, his tongue flat and gliding over his hard cock as he thrusts into him mercilessly. And the man above him looks back at him with such fucking beauty, lips parted, small pants escaping them, and eyes focused on Dan.

He comes hard, moaning loudly as he thrusts into his mouth. Dan swallows around him, relishing in the last moment of the warm weight on his tongue, his eyes still on him.

He lingers a little bit before pulling out and he plops down next to Dan on the bed. He falls onto his back, both of them exhausted, gleaming with sweat and other bodily fluids. They catch their breaths as they stare at the ceiling.

“That didn’t happen”, Dan states when he’s slightly recovered. He laughs a breathy laugh. “It didn’t happen last time, and it didn’t happen this time. And it _totally_ won’t happen ever again, right?”

He smirks as Mr. Lester pushes his arm as he chuckles. “Hey”, he scoffs. 

Dan smiles; he wants to just crack and laugh hysterically for minute after minute because he’s suddenly so bloody happy with his life.

He leans up on his elbow and rolls over on his side. The naked beauty beside him gleams pale in the dim light from outside his blinds. “How long are you here for?”

“Three more weeks”, Mr. Lester tells him, looking back at him.

He copies Dan’s movement so that they’re facing each other. Mr. Lester swiftly leans in and catches his lips. Dan kisses him right back, hand cupping his face. 

“Three more weeks”, Mr. Lester says again, quieter, mouths nearly touching. His breath is warm on Dan’s lips and it’s hard to resist kissing him again, or for hours on end. “And… I think you should meet me after class one of those times. And maybe we can, perhaps... _arrange_ something.”

Dan grins at him. He nods excitedly. 

He withdraws his hand from his cheek and finds Mr. Lester’s. The other man gets the idea and they hold their hands up between each other, their palms pressed together. They’re warm, and Dan remembers a thought; that he’s never going to freeze again.

“Tell me now, teacher”, Dan says, measuring their fingers up against each other. His hands are slightly larger and he kinda likes it like that. “What _does_ the heart line mean?”

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck man! What a journey. I never meant for this to be so long. It got to a point when I was more concerned about these semi-fictional characters than people in my actual irl surroundings.  
> Thanks, actual teacher trainee at my social studies class, for inspiring me to write this. You're amazing. (She said today you always need to mention a source or you might be accused for plagiarism, so, just, you know... The Secret Sits is a poem by Robert Frost. I think the rest of this was mostly on me.) Thank you also, so incredibly much, to Ann, for letting me bitch about these grown ass men and ask questions about university and language and whatever else. I owe you the world, and you know it.


End file.
